


secret garden

by whistlingwindtree



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 11:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whistlingwindtree/pseuds/whistlingwindtree
Summary: Robbie goes to the wrong address, and discovers a secret garden with a woman that changes his life.





	secret garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soulofevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofevil/gifts).



> [ Based on this quakerider moodboard I did!](https://whistlingwindtree.tumblr.com/post/182743294734/hello-to-help-me-get-into-that-valentines-day)
> 
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> 
> Thanks SoulOfEvil for requesting it :)

**The Reyes Brothers' Residence**

“I know Dr. Fitz is like, your friend and all,” Gabe’s eyes twinkled mischievously as his big brother came out his room, dressed to the nines. “But you look like a jackass.”

“It’s for his engagement shoot,” Robbie mumbled, feeling self-conscious as he crossed the living room, his dress shoes making a funny sound on the worn linoleum.  “Jemma wants it to look like a tea party.” He made a show of looking for his car keys.

“Dr. Simmons is too practical for that. Sure it wasn’t Dr. Fitz’s idea?”

“Shut it, dumbass.” Robbie grabbed his keys, then frowned when he didn’t have his familiar leather jacket. “You wouldn’t be at Stanford if it wasn’t for them.” He slipped his keys and wallet into the pocket of his dress slacks.

“I’m at Standford because of my brain.” Gabe wasn’t boasting, he was being truthful. “But yeah, Dr. Simmons helped lots. And who woulda thought my first-year professors would now be your friends, huh?”

Jemma Simmons, double Ph.D.,  had been bedridden in her childhood and after a visit to the failing Lincoln High School in Hill Rock Heights, she’d taken a personal interest in wheelchair-bound Gabe Reyes whose aptitude for chemical engineering was beyond his circumstances.

Robbie’d been initially suspicious, with her fancy English accent and her appeal to help, but his desire to see Gabe succeed was bigger than his pride. But when she brought over her best friend who was the engineering to her chemistry? Robbie became fast friends with the irreverent Dr. Leo Fitz. An engineering genius, who regularly cursed a blue streak, he’d helped Robbie get his beloved Dodge Charger to over 900 horsepower, vowing one day they’d made it fly.

“I’ll be back after dinner,” Robbie said simply, tousling Gabe’s hair in farewell. “Eat without me.” And he hurriedly left their modest home since he was running late.

If Jemma didn’t kill him for making their photographer, the famous Elena Rogriguez wait, Fitz would, for making his fiancee unhappy.

Robbie briskly walked to his black muscle car and slid into the driver's side. His car was the closest to a relationship he’d ever get, love wasn’t in the cards for him. He was too stubborn a man to bow to its whims, too scared of it going wrong, but no one deserved happiness more than Fitz and Jemma, and he’d gladly shave and wear a flowery bow tie for them.

Robbie hummed as he pulled up the directions.

He was off to 7288 Elysian Way.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Fitz!” Jemma’s face fell. “You wrote the wrong address for Robbie! It’s 2 _7_ 88, not 7288.”

Jemma liked being prepared and they were an hour early at the site of the photo shoot. It was the botanical garden where they had their first date and she’d been leafing through her Fitz’s notes.

Fitz squinted at his scratchy handwriting. “That’s a seven. And that’s a two.”

“Your handwriting is atrocious.” Jemma’s brow wrinkled, now worried about the engagement photos. “Suppose Robbie doesn’t-”

“We have Phil and Melinda showing up-”

“But it won’t be a Garden party with just four people!”

“And Hunter and Bobbi-”

“Or they may be in one of their tiffs and not show.” Jemma started pacing, glancing nervously around. She’d been in love with Fitz for so long and had bottled it up, and now that it was out in the open, she wanted to do everything perfectly. The engagement photos, the save the date cards, the cake, and floral arrangements, the-

“I love you, Jemma Simmons,” Fitz gently took her hands and brought them to his lips. “As long as we have each other, we can make it.” He hadn’t a care in the world, Jemma was going to be his wife.

Jemma smiled, and relaxed. “What would I do without you?”

“Kiss me and I will show you what we _can_.”

And they were so caught up in each other, that they missed Robbie Reyes’ black car cruising down the road, past their location.

 

* * *

 

 

Driving up to 7288 Elysian Way was liking entering a dream world.

Pink and white flowers bloomed around the two-story brick home, while lush green vines meandered on the side, and for a moment, Robbie allowed himself to dream, that he could find someone who would love him, and live happily ever after on a quiet country road, with birds singing and the whispers of the breeze chatting with the trees.

“Would have to make it accessible for Gabe, though,” he mused, as he fixed his bowtie. There was an actual white picket fence, with clambering fragrant blooms, and he welcomed the feeling of stepping into another world.

* * *

 

Best selling author Daisy Johnson tipped her face to the sun, enjoying the warm rays as they danced across her skin. Critics deemed her an eccentric, reclusive author and she enjoyed it.

Abandoned at birth, and enduring a lifetime of trauma by the time she was a teenager, she channeled her hurt and disappointment into her writing. Her first novel didn’t make her rich, or her second and by her third book, she’d had to file bankruptcy.

But her fourth, published when she was twenty-five?

She’d made enough money to pay off her debts and keep her comfortable, and she’d even made a disastrous trip to China to find her birth parents, right before she’d lost every penny. Tall, dark, handsome men like Grant Ward were now a threat because they’d promise the world and stab her behind her back.

And so she’d added rage to her hurt and disappointment, with nothing to lose, she’d begun a new young adult series, and the themes of girl power and resilience struck a cultural chord, and she’d been catapulted into success ever since. But pretty blond boys like Lincoln would promise to remake a future but then disappear, and now, Daisy Johnson was numb with despair.

 “So glad I’m over relationships,” Daisy murmured, as she picked up a bunch of white roses, the heady fragrances reminding her why writing was her passion and not people.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

Daisy jumped, whirling to the sound of the deep voice. It was a man, about her age with golden skin, and hair as black as the night.

“It’s beautiful.” The stranger continued. “I can see why Fitz and Jemma chose it.”

Daisy blinked. Was she hallucinating a dark-haired dandy with a flowered bow tie and a tan jacket?

“I'm Robbie. Robbie Reyes,” he said, now within a few feet of her. “The lovebirds here yet?”

Daisy’s heart raced and her chest tightened. Was her agent Raina about to ambush her with a meeting? She clutched the flowers she’d just picked for safety, and breathed in, counting to ten, as her therapist instructed.

“Robbie Reyes,” she returned calmly. “You’re on my private property. _Get out_. Before I kick you out.

* * *

 

 

Robbie froze, as he and the woman locked gazes.

“I’m here for an engagement photo shoot,” he finally said, hoping to clear up any miscommunication.

Daisy, who’d been on the receiving end of two broken engagements, allowed the anger that bubbled, to overtake her.

“You with the paparazzi? This some kinda joke?” She growled, striding up to a now bewildered Robbie.

“Joke?” Robbie repeated, his heart racing as the prettiest woman he’d ever seen walked up, clutching white flowers in her hands, like a bride. “Are you married?” He continued. He needed to know whether he could ask her out or not.

“Married?” The icy calm should’ve tipped him off that all was not well. “You trespass on my property, days after I get jilted at the altar then asked if I’m _married?_ ”

“You? Jilted?” Robbie’s mouth dropped open.

“I said _get out_.”

Robbie gulped. His choices were either disappointed Jemma and an angry Fitz. Or to convince this woman he was in the right place.

“Don’t kick me out,” Robbie raised his hands defensively. “Please. I’m harmless.”

“I don’t expect you to announce you’re an ax murderer.” Daisy glared.

Robbie gave a lopsided smile. “If I were to murder you, it wouldn’t be with an ax. Too messy.”

His macabre answer piqued Daisy’s curiosity. “And how would you kill someone?.”

Robbie’s face grew shuttered as he thought about the car accident that killed his parents and left Gabe in a chair, while he was unscathed.

“Burn their soul,” he murmured. His had died that night, and now was a dead man walking. Just then the wind picked up, and the scent of roses came across the breeze and he was transported back to his parents funeral and the sickening smell of those damned useless floral arrangements that probably cost too much money and wouldn’t help his parents return to life.

“I- I'm sorry-” His dropped his hands, his palms sweaty now, and as his heartbeat increased, his mortification rose. No, he couldn't be weak now. He fingered his collar with a shaking hand to loosen the tightness.

“I think-” he gasped.

“Are you okay?” Daisy placed her flowers that she’d been holding on the patio table, and as one errant rose fell to the side, it reminded Robbie of the one flower he’d put in each of his parents' coffins.

“I’m having a-” Robbie was having difficulty breathing now as his chest grew tight and thoughts and images assailed him.

Why did he only put _one_ flower in his mother's coffin? Why didn’t he do a whole damn bouquet?

Did his parents know he loved them when they died?

Why did he have to whiny teenager and demand to drive the old family car that fateful night?

Why did his parents _let_ him? They were supposed to know better.

“Breathe,"  Daisy commanded, all too familiar with panic attacks. "Just breathe.”

“C-can’t,” A strangled cry escaped Robbie, but there was no air. Where was the fucking air?

“Yes. You can.” Cool hands grasped him, squeezing him. “Find five things you can see.”

Robbie stared at her dark eyes and he started hyperventilating.

“Oh no you don’t,” Daisy swiftly turned him around, making him face her garden. “Five things. Now.”

Robbie squinted. The lush grass at his feet. The array of flowers in front of him. The colors were pink, and red, and yellow, with green leaves. The sky was blue and the clouds white.

“Five.” He grunted and began pulling off his jacket, while she helped him.

“Four things you can feel.” Daisy tossed his jacket on the ground, then wrapped her arms around him.

“I can’t,” Robbie started shaking.

“You can feel me.” Daisy interrupted, knowing too well how the human brain was a deceitful bastard.

“That’s only one.”

“Can you feel the sun?”

Robbe squeezed his eyes shut, numb.

“The sun is fucking hot,” Daisy continued. "But the breeze is kinda cool.”

“This bow tie feels like a noose. And these shoes hurt.” Robbie whined, but not wanting her to let him go.

‘No one said you had to feel good things.” Daisy deftly undid his bow tie and Robbie followed with unsnapping it. His breathing eased a fraction as he kicked off his dress shoes.

“Thanks,” he began, sheepishly. ‘I don’t know what-”

“Three things you can hear.” Daisy shook him lightly to get his attention. “We’re not done.”

“Just you,” Robbie grumbled, but he stopped speaking so he could listen. “The wind in the trees.” He cocked his head. “What’s that noise?”

“My tummy. I’m hungry,” Daisy grinned. “And two things you can smell.”

“These damned flowers all around,” Robbie said. “And your shampoo?”

Daisy kept smiling, happy at his progress. “Final thing. One thing you can taste.”

And Robbie didn’t hesitate or even think it over. He crushed the woman towards him, his lips descending on hers.

“You,” he whispered. “I can taste _you_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> So, I didn't want to make this any longer, and in no way am I a mental health professional! My headcanon was that Robbie, out of his element with fancy clothes, and having to act a certain way, simply ran out of spoons, and shut down. I think the smell of the flowers, something that for him would be associated with his parents funeral, is what really triggered him.


End file.
